Kate Would Be Proud
by Stars-and-Stones
Summary: Tony reflects on his life since Jeanne. What happens when Ziva shows up on his doorstep, in tears? Slight OOC-ness, oneshot.


It's the way she walks, the way she can't use contractions, _like _"can't", or say any idiom correctly. She's a fierce fighter, and doesn't take no for an answer. Honestly, it turns me on sometimes. Other times…it can be a colossal pain in the ass.

McGee says that she's Israeli, a Massaud, she's supposed to stay emotionally distant. But I catch her looking at me at times, and she'll slip up on occasion. I like when she gets like that, it feels like McGee predicted it in that book of his, but I always manage to blow it, saying something stupid and immature.

Kate. God, I shiver when I think of Kate, and how she was killed. I miss her. Loved her like a little sister. I often wonder what she would think of the one that replaced her on the team. I think she woul like her. I still wonder, though, if she would understand all that I've had to do, all that I've done, and all that I've felt.

The director…Jenny thought that I was in love with Jeanne, that I was compromising my mission. Honestly, I did love Jeanne. But I wasn't in love with her. I'm in love with _her_. And Jeanne knew it, picked up on it too early in our …_relationship_, I suppose you could call it. I had a chance to go back with Jeanne, she was willing to give me a second chance. All I had to do was think of leaving her, and Boss, Abby, and McGee, though, and I couldn't do it. I don't know if Jeanne understands, but it hurts to think about her anymore.

I don't regret staying with my team, and I don't think I ever will. But it hurts sometimes. I think of Jeanne, and think of the life I could have had. I'll spiral downwards, back into the depression I was so close to falling into.

But then she'll come, with some saying that I know she'll screw up, mixing it up with another. Or she'll threaten to kill me with a post-it for using her deodorant again. We'll get into another prank fight during a stakeout, and it'll be like it's back to normal.

I wonder if she realizes that I don't look at her to check out her ass, or her breasts that her shirts manage to show so nicely. I'm conflicted, hoping that she does, at the same time while hoping that she doesn't. I never understood love completely, always thought that I was better off with girls who's idea of a long-term relationship was Spring Break.

When she came onto the team, I thought that it would be bad. A Massaud officer, cold as ice, and as bitchy as a PMSing hooker that got stiffed. She was unattainable, and I suppose that's what made me notice her more than Abby, or Kate.

Her laugh is obnoxious at times, she snores worse than a ship full of drunk sailors-trust me, I should know-, she's high-strung, and sometimes can't take a joke. But she's sweet, and kind. She knows how to help someone in need, and is just as loyal as Gibbs.

I was such an idiot to not let her know before she was swept away. All I'm certain of now a days is that the man who know holds her at night had better treat her right, or he'd better learn to sleep with his eyes open.

A knock on the door brings me out of my train of thought. I wonder who it could be as I get up from my couch, pausing the movie on the screen. I don't even remember what I put in.

Scratching at my bare chest, I open the door to find her standing there, her head down.

"Ziva?" I ask incredulously. I look at the clock. "Ziva, it's after three in the morning! What are you doing here?"

I hear a subtle sniff, and she quickly wipes her eyes before looking up at me. Her eyes are red and blotchy, and she has a small drip going down her nose. She licks her lips nervously, and, unfortunately, I feel the heat rush to a spot it should not be rushing to at this awkward moment.

She sniffs again, and wipes her nose quickly. "I…" She clears her throat, as if trying to get past a lump in her throat.

I step out of the doorway, and gesture for her to come in. She walks in quickly, watching me as I close the door.

"Coffee or tea?" I ask.

"Tea."

I go into the kitchen, and put the cup of water into the microwave. After pushing the numbers, I go to stand in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. Ziva has perched herself precariously on the edge of the couch. Glancing at the screen, a fleeting smile crosses her lips.

"The Princess Bride?"

So that's what I put in. I grin wide, like the Cheshire Cat. "You're never too old to watch a classic like this."

The microwave beeps, and I go back to the kitchen. I come back out with her tea, and hand it to her. She gives a small nod of her head as a thanks. She drinks it in silence, and I watch her in silence.

"Are you going to sit down, or stand there watching me like a mouse?" she asks.

I fight back the urge to correct her, and I sit down on the couch next to her. Finishing her tea, she puts the cup on the table. Actually, on top of my Playboy magazine. I wince. Of course it was the Playboy. Couldn't have been the golf magazine. Had to be the Playboy.

I keep silent, allowing her to initiate the conversation. She fidgets, rubbing her palms together.

"I did not know where else to go." She starts. I sit back, pulling my legs up on the couch, and sitting cross-legged. She takes a deep breath. "I am usually a good judge of character, yes?"

"Well, you've got me pegged." I said, smiling again. "But I'm not that hard to get, so maybe not."

She looks at me with the same look she gave me when we had our brief conversation about soul mates by the vending machines.

"Maybe I should not have come here." She says. Ziva gets up, but I grab her wrist.

"I may not be hard to peg, but you also have Gibbs, Abby, and McGee down. That's no easy feat, Ziva."

She hesitates, then sits again, a little further back in the couch than she was earlier. She stares at her hands. "So if I am a good judge of character, then I should be able to separate the men who are assholes from the men who are good, yes?"I study her face. "Not necessarily. Jeanne was a good judge of character." I look down.

Her hand touches my cheek, lifting my face. Her curious eyes study mine. "You are not a bad man. You were simply following orders. It is only a bad consequence that you both ended up getting hurt because of them."

I move my face away from her hand before she feels it heat up. "Yeah, well, enough about me. Why are you showing up at my house at three in the morning, Ziva? I thought you were supposed to be with your new friend." I wait for her to continue, feeling my knuckles go white. If he hurt her, I will kill him.

"We were at a bar. We both were drinking, him more than myself. I went into the ladies room. When I got back, he had some blond sitting on his lap." Her fists tighten and her knuckles turn white. "She was practically sucking the very life out of him! And he-" she shakes her head, trying to hold back emotions. I want to hug her, but I don't know what she will do if I tried. Her voice shakes as she continues. "And he was enjoying it. When he saw me, he took his lips off of her long enough to say that I wasn't fast enough for him, and to run along before I created a scene."

A tear drips down her nose, and falls into her lap. "I got out of there as fast as I could. I came straight here." She sniffed again, and wiped her nose.

"Ziva," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

She smiles bitterly. "He told me that he loved me." He voice cracks, and she starts crying harder. "And I…I was foolish enough to fall in love with him!"

"No, Ziva, you weren't foolish to fall in love." I cleared my throat. "It's better to have loved and be loved for a day, then to live a thousand years and not experience love at all."

She gives a watery snort. "What movie was that from?" she asks bitterly.

I move closer. "It's an old quote. I'm not sure who said it, but every child who was born in America has heard that one time or another."

Ziva starts sobbing, suddenly, and leans her head on my shoulder. I sit rigid, not sure what to do. But as she starts to cry harder, I wrap an arm around her shoulder, and rub a small circle on the small of her back.

She cries for about half an hour. I feel awkward the entire time. She's hurting, and I don't have any idea of what to do.

When her shoulders stop shaking, she pulls back quickly, and wipes her eyes and nose. She stands abruptly.

"I'm sorry." She says, before walking towards the door.

Unfortunately for her, my legs are longer. I cross my small living room, and close the door with my hand as she opens it. "Why are you sorry?" I ask. "What did you do? You were hurt, Ziva. There's no shame in showing emotion because of it."

She turns suddenly, her nose mere inches away from mine. She looks pissed. "You do not understand." she hisses. "You were the one that hurt Jeanne, not the other way around."

That's a low blow, even for her. As I stand, hurting at her words, she stalks out. Five minutes after she leaves, I'm still standing there. I slam my fist against the wall.

"Damnit."

I throw on a black t-shirt, shove my feet into my shoes, and stalk out of my home, slamming the door behind me. I said I would kill him if he hurt her.

* * *

I reach the bar in less than five minutes. I remember what he looks like from the pictures that Ziva used to show at work. He's tall, with blond hair, and baby blue eyes. Well built, from the looks of the picture. I see him almost immediately.

He's up against the wall in the back, the girl with her legs wrapped around his waist. From what I can see, one of his hands is either up her shirt or down her skirt.

My blood boils, and I make my way through the drunken crowd to were he stands.

"Hey!" I call out to him angrily. He turns around, and the girl behind him steadies herself onto her own legs, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder. Funny. Ziva had said he was making out with a blonde.

"Do I know you?" His words are slurred, and he sounds angry that I interrupted his fun.

"You Tommy Davis?" I ask, keeping my voice as calm as I can.

"Yeah. What's it to ya?" He sets his shoulders back, and straightens his back to reach his full height. He's a good three inches taller than me, with muscles like a body builder's.

"You know Ziva David?" I try to stay calm, but it's hard as the girl starts suckling on his neck like a newborn.

He snorts, and laughs loudly. By now, the entire club is watching. Good.

"Yeah, that Israeli chick. Had a rockin' bod, but wouldn't let me touch it, you know?" Tommy laughs harder, until my fist connects with his nose, and his head snaps back.

Stumbling, he brings his hand to his nose, and looking shocked when he pulls it away bloody.

"What the hell was that?!" He roars, then charges me.

I brace myself, and am ready when his fist connects with my face. I don't know what I just got myself into, but I'm going to finish it.

The crowd starts cheering one of us on, but I don't know who. I see the bartender pick up a phone out of the corner of my eye before Tommy blackens it. We trade blows, and kicks, each trying to get the advantage.

By the time the red and blue lights flash against the walls, I'm black and blue all over, with blood dripping down my face and fists. Tommy doesn't look much better, and he's able to deliver a good, resounding blow to my head before the police manage to tackle him down. The room starts spinning, and I go down.

I hear a panicked voice screaming my name, but I can't respond. My lips won't work. I open my eyes slightly, and see Ziva's frantic face above mine. It's the last image I see before my world goes black.

* * *

I wake up in a hospital bed. Blinking in the sunlight, I shade my eyes, and sit up. I look around me. An IV is hooked up to my arm, and McGee is sleeping in the chair next to my bed. I choke back the lump that suddenly forms in my throat when I see Ziva stretched across the couch in the room.

I throw a plastic cup at McGee, and he jerks awake. I put a finger to my lips, to indicate that he doesn't wake up Ziva. Blinking, he smiles in relief when he sees me.

"You have no idea how worried we've been about you, Tony." he says, stretching. "Gibbs practically had to knock Abby out before she agreed to go get some sleep."

"How long was I out?" I whisper.

"About two days." Gibbs' voice floats over from the doorway. He places a cup of coffee on the tray next to me. "Six sugars, three creamers." he says, shaking his head at my apparent lack of taste in coffee. Bite me, I like my sugary goodness mixed with my caffeine.

Ziva stirs, and yawns, sitting up. "Tony!" she exclaims. She starts, then seems to restrain herself. "I am glad that you are awake." she says, looking away from my eyes.

I yawn like a chimp, like a good little actor, and put on my goofy grin. "Well, you know me. Anything for a nap."

McGee shakes his head, then stands up.

"What, leaving already, Probie?" I fake offense.

He winces. "Abby will kill us both if I don't call her to tell her your awake."

I flinch. "Good idea, Probie." I mutter.

I glance up at Gibbs. "Why am I not in cuffs, Boss? I should be arrested. I started that fight."

"Tommy has decided not to press charges." Ziva says quietly.

I eye her, but don't say anything. An awkward silence fills the room. Boss clears his throat, then turns to leave.

"Where you going, Boss?" I ask.

"To call the director." is his fleeting response as he disappears from the room, closing the door.

Ziva remains silent. "Tony," she begins.

I hold up a hand. "Don't, Ziva. Alright? Just don't."

She glares at me, and presses anyway. "Why did you start that fight with him?" she demands.

I pass my hand over my face. "You want my answer? Fine. He hurt a teammate. I hurt him. Case closed."

Her eyes search my face. "There is something that you are not telling me." she says thoughtfully.

"You asked for my answer, there it is." I grumble. I can't loose her, not now.

"How about the truth, Tony?"

"You want the truth, Ziva?"

"Yes."

I think about saying, "You can't handle the truth," and ruining the moment, like I normally do, but for some reason, I don't.

"Fine. The truth isn't that he hurt a teammate. He hurt _you_."

The room fills with silence as Ziva goes over what I said.

"What makes me so special?" she asks.

"What doesn't?" I mumble.

"What was that?" she asks sharply.

Aw, crap. She wasn't supposed to hear that.

"Forget it ,Ziva. Just drop it, okay?" I lay down, and turn my back to her. She's quiet, and after five minutes, I turn to see if she fell asleep or something. My heart almost bursts when I come face to face with her.

"Jesus Christ, Ziva! What the hell did you have to go into ninja mode for?!" I snap, holding a hand over my heart for dramatic effect.

Her eyes, once again, study my face curiously. Very slowly, she leans forward. My breath catches in my throat. She presses her lips to mine, gently, and pulls away quickly. Smiling softly, she whispers in my ear,

"Thank you." She stands up, and heads for the door. "I think I will tell the nurse that you are ready to be taken home."

I wince slightly. "Ziva, I don't know if I want to go home." My voice cracks slightly, and I feel a small blush work its way across the bridge of my nose.

She turns to face me. "That is why you are going to be taken to my home." Her smile turns mischievous, and I slowly grin back. She walks out, and I see her talking to the nurse.

I think about what just happened for about all of three seconds, before Abby bursts in, half running unsteadily on three-inch heels. She runs over to the bedside, and grabs me in the biggest hug she can manage.

"Oh my God, Tony, are you okay?!" she cries.

As I gasp for breath, I hear McGee, Gibbs, and Ziva laughing quietly in the doorway. I catch Ziva's gaze with my own, and she gives me a smile that I know only I will be able to see from now on. I smile back, and hug Abby the best I can.

Kate would be proud, I think.

* * *

I have finally learned how the bloody hell to use this site. XD It took me long enough!

Anyway, this is one of the first fanfics I've ever written - an NCIS fic for my favorite couple from the show, TonyXZiva. :) It's posted on DeviantArt as well, and it's my most faved deviation. Ever. O.o It makes me happy, so I guess that it's pretty good. ^-^ I'd love some feedback from critiques on here. Any thoughts are appreciated.


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